Madness
by High Stress Level
Summary: As the war streched on and on, everyone began to go a little mad. Vague slash themes. Somewhat dark.


Title: Madness  
Author: E. Kathleen Roper (deathoflight)  
Warnings: A tad dark; Slash  
Pairing: Minor Snape/Potter  
AN: Written 2005-04-09

The war had slowly begun to drive everyone a little mad. It was gradual at first; the stress; the increasingly frequent attacks; the deaths. So many deaths. As the years stretched on and the Dark Lord grew ever stronger, those who fought against him fell, one by one. Some died cleanly in battle, felled by a fatal curse. Others lost hope and turned from the light to seek some measure of protection by allying themselves with darkness. The rest...simply broke.

I don't blame them. Not really. It would be so easy to give in to the madness. To simply say "No more," and retreat to a more quiet, peaceful place. It's tempting really, but I've managed to resist, though only just barely. I have to stay strong, even if I'm the only one left. After all, I am the only one who can save them.

Ron was one of the first to go. He simply woke one day and declared that it was over. There was no more fighting that could be done. I thought at first that I could save him. St Mungos was still under our control back then and with the right healers, and the proper potions, perhaps we could have brought him back. But he refused, and with the war I didn't have the time or energy to press him. I thought perhaps with time...

But time only makes things worse.

Hermione fought it for as long as she could, but I could see it creeping into her eyes all the same. The tightness in her face, the strain in her voice, they grew until one day she shattered. She fled back to the Muggle world, and before she left, she begged me to come with her. I could have gone, and perhaps we would have had a few happy years, but I knew even then that this war would not stay confined to our world.

I was right.

Remus is perhaps the worst of all, since even now he does not believe that he is mad. His mask of sanity has grown so thin that it is a marvel the mask holds at all. He pretends, and at times it seems that he even sees the world for what it truly is, but I can see the doubt in his eyes. He thinks that none of this is real.

Yet the maddest thing of all is that the only one who still stands beside me is Severus Snape. I thought for certain that he would have jumped ship when it became apparent that the side of Light was failing. Once a traitor, always a traitor. But he still insists that there is hope. That with time, and planning, and a little luck we might just beat this.

Voldemort controls everything now. Once the opposition faded, he was content to draw back into the shadows and simply pull the strings of our puppet government, but his foul taint covers everything. I can taste him in the very water that I drink, and it sickens me. The people choose to ignore the fact that they now live under his fist, as pretended freedom is preferable to fear and the inevitable reprisals that would ensue should they try to break away from him.

I think perhaps that he has even forgotten me. Alone, without the forces of Light behind me, he no longer sees me as a threat. That will be his undoing. I know him too well. He will not be content to remain in the shadows for long. Even now he only controls a small part of the world, and he will not rest until he rules it all. Already he manoeuvres to increase his power. But I will stop him, because I am the only one who can.

The wizarding newspapers no longer speak of him, except in vague reference to the troubled times of past. He controls what they can print, only allowing those stories which further his own goals. But he doesn't control the Muggle press. Not completely. Not yet. They don't understand what is happening all around them, but it inevitably filters into their news, however diluted the facts may be.

I can track him this way.

I have hundreds of papers delivered from all around the world. I have them sent to various false names and addresses, so as not to arouse suspicion. Leaving my hiding place to gather them is dangerous, as I might be spotted at any time, but the information I gather is vital. A sentence here, a quote there, eventually I will be able to piece together--

There's a knock at the door.

That can't be. No one knows where to find me. Unless...

Unless Severus told them of my latest hideaway. He's the only one who knows. Perhaps he has finally given in and gone back to Voldemort. I always knew that he eventually would.

Drawing my wand I creep towards the door. If this is the end, I will face it bravely. Quickly I cast a charm so that I can see through the door and have some idea of what I will find on the other side.

Equal parts relief and frustration flood through me when I see Severus's haggard face. The idiot! He knows that it isn't safe to come here. Throwing open the door, I reach through and practically drag him inside, slamming the door quickly shut behind him. "What are you doing here?" I demand, as I strengthen the wards on the door. "Are you certain that you weren't followed? They're beginning to suspect you."

Somehow managing to sneer, sigh, and shake his head all at the same time, he leans back against the wall and says, as he has many times before, "I have been a spy longer than you have been alive, Mr. Potter. I am quite adept at going unnoticed when I wish to."

After taking one last cautious glance around, I sheathe my wand and lean in to brush my lips lightly across his. "It is good to see you," I say, "even if it isn't worth the risk. There's something I should show you anyway. I think I've found it."

"Found what?" he asks warily.

"Over here," I say, taking his arm and pulling him towards the wall where I have spellotaped all the relevant clippings from the past month's papers. "I think that I know what Voldemort's next move will be." It takes me only a moment to find the right one, circled brightly in red ink. "Here," I say, tapping it triumphantly, "as you can see--"

"No I cannot see," he interrupts irratibly. "I believe that article is in Turkish, a language that neither you nor I can read."

I frown and lean in to examine it more closely. That does rather look like Turkish. "Yes, well that doesn't matter. I'll just cast a translation--"

"No!" Drawing in a shaking breath he rubs tiredly at his eyes. "No, not just yet. There's something I need you to do for me first." Reaching into an inner pocket of his robe he withdraws a small vial. "Drink this, Harry, it's quite important."

I take the vial and hold it up to the light. The potion inside is clear, amber coloured, and nothing that I have ever seen before. This is not the first time that he has brought a potion for me, but something in his manner and voice makes me wary. I glance away from the vial to find that he is watching me with a dreadful anticipation.

Dropping the vial I grab for my wand and jump back from him. "It's poison."

His sigh, and the sudden slump of his shoulders, wakes in me a strange sense of deja vu. "I swear to you that it is not poison," he says mechanically, as though he has said the same words a hundred times before.

Cautiously I lean forward to pick up the vial. "What is it then?"

Closing his eyes, and turning slightly away, he says in little more than a whisper, "It's an antidote. The Dark Lord has a new poison -- an odourless gas -- and he plans to use it to kill you. This will protect you, but you must take it before it is too late."

After a moment's hesitation, I open the vial and drink the contents. Either the gas will kill me, or the potion will. And if I cannot trust Severus then I can trust no one. I wait tensely for a minute, then five, and nothing happens. He must have been telling the truth. Slowly I relax.

"What do you feel?" he asks.

"Feel?" I ask, frowning. "I feel nothing. Should I?"

A muscle in the corner of his eye begins to twitch and he takes a step towards me. "You feel no change at all?" he demands. "You must. You must feel something."

"Change? What kind of change?" I ask, fear rising up inside me. "What have you given me?"

He stares at me for a long moment and then smiles widely. "Nothing. I have given you nothing!" he says, his voice edging towards the hysterical. "Ten years of research. Ten years of trying, and still, I've given you nothing!" Suddenly he grabs me by the shoulders and spins me to face the wall. "Can't you see?" he asks, pointing at the thousands of newspaper clippings that are taped to it. "Can't you see that this is madness?" Shoving me aside he begins to claw at the wall, ripping the papers free.

"Severus, stop!" I beg him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away.

He turns to me, a mad light in his eyes, and holds out his hands, shredded strips of newsprint clutched in his fists. "Can't you see that this is madness?" he asks again. "The Dark Lord is dead! You killed him ten years ago!" Slowly he backs away until his shoulders hit the wall, then slides bonelessly down to the floor. "It's madness," he whispers, staring blankly at his hands. And then he begins to laugh.

My gut wrenches as I realise that Severus too has finally broken. But I will continue to fight, even if I must do it alone. It is my destiny.

FIN


End file.
